


Devil's Trap

by lendylsheree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Human Castiel, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Sassy Castiel, Stockholm Syndrome, Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lendylsheree/pseuds/lendylsheree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an escaped convict of Tennessee State Prison running out of places to hide.  <br/>Castiel is a normal man with a seemingly normal life until he is captured by Dean and held hostage in his own home.  what secrets will be uncovered?<br/>Will anything but hatred spark out of their time together?<br/>Can Dean stow away his demons?<br/>Can Castiel learn to forgive?<br/>Well, we'll just have to see won't we? :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Trap

This was his chance, there was only one guard who was protecting the hall in which he was imprisoned. He didn't have to be here anymore, and God knows he didn't deserve to be here. All of his past actions were perfectly justifiable in his eyes. He watched the hall sharply, and still only one guard remained in sight. He had to get out of here. This place, it wasn't for him, he wasn't the bad guy. Dean Winchester's entire body tightened as the patrolling officer disappeared from sight. This is it. He thought to himself. After this, I'm free. Dean tip-toed his way down the hall, watching closely and listening carefully for anything besides the sound of his fellow inmates snoring. It was 3:47 AM in the Tennessee State Penitentiary, and not a soul was awake besides Dean and the one man standing in the way of his freedom. The last guy, well, it didn't end so well. He'd do what he had to so as to be out of here. Isn't that what anyone would do? He crept down the stairs, coming up on the public bathroom, which was not technically part of the prison block so he knew there would be a window. Dean slid inside the bathroom, quietly shutting and locking the door from the inside. This plan had gone a whole lot smoother than he had originally anticipated. Following all the rules and getting a better, less guarded cell because of good behavior had really paid off, and Dean couldn't be happier.  
The window in the bathroom was pretty high up, but luckily, for Dean, it wasn't too big of a stretch from the sink counter. He hoisted himself on the counter and stood, reaching his arms up to fiddle around with the window lock.   
“Sunuvabitch.” He grunted in frustration when the lock wouldn't budge, but eventually, it had given way and allowed Dean to slide the window up. He tilted his head up to whiff at the air coming from outside. He could smell the fresh oak and pine. He could also tell it had just rained not too long ago.  
“Ah, sweet freedom.” He sighed happily, letting a smile creep across his face before lifting himself up, and leaping out of the window. Guess it was good that he was on the first floor of the prison.

The barbed wire was a bitch, and he hated it. Dean didn't care about that now though. He was out, and he wasn't going to let a few metal pokers ruin this for him so he ignored the pain of the cuts as he leapt over and climbed over fences armed with barbed wire.  
“Does this shit ever end?” He huffed aloud. He had jumped 10 fences so far, and needless to say, he was exhausted. He knew he had to keep moving, for it wouldn't be long before the guard found his buddy dead on Dean's cell floor. They'd hunt him like an animal. Dean kept moving, climbing, and jumping, until the fences had reached their end. Fifteen of those fuckers. What kind of prison needs fifteen fences? He contemplated for a moment. Well, obviously they need a lot more if you're able to get out. Dean started to run. He would hit a road eventually, but he would just have to be extra careful at this time in the morning. Police would be everywhere, and he did not feel like having to bury a body on top of all of this running.

 

Castiel was tired. No, scratch that, he was wiped. He supposed he could have stayed with his family, but who would actually be able to sleep? They didn't stop fighting long enough to sleep. No, he was just as well off driving home at 4 o'clock in the morning as he would be staying over there for the night. The only problem was that his parents house was about a 4 and a half hour drive away from his own. He had left at around midnight so that didn't leave him much time before he was home in his bed. Oh, his bed. His big, comfortable, squishy, empty, lonely bed. A frown made it's way onto Castiel's face. He had almost forgotten for a moment. He was alone now. Zeke had left, and took everything with him as far as emotions went. It's been almost two months and Castiel still wakes up I the middle of the night, searching for him, only to be disappointed time and time again. He had gotten the crazy notion that going to his parents' house for the day would somehow clear the fog in his head. Nevermind that they were less than impressed that their only son “chose the gay life”. Whatever, he thought to himself, you don't need them anyway. You've done this by yourself for two months, Cas. You're practically a pro. He let out a giggle which he knew was because he was sleepy, and then came the rain.  
“Well, shit.” Cas muttered as he flipped his windshield wipers on. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and he couldn't see a damn thing. He squinted, and tapped his brakes, knowing that he needed to slow down. He was depressed but he didn't have a death wish. That was when he saw it. Something was on the side of the road. Castiel tapped his brakes further.  
“What the...” He squinted harder. “Oh my God.” He came to a complete stop, not thinking about all of the ways that this was a bad idea. It was a man, and Cas knew he needed help. What was he doing out here on the side of the road? He was standing as if he were waiting on someone. Cas didn't allow himself to think anymore; he grabbed his extra coat from the back seat and stepped out of his car. He ran up to the soaking wet man.  
“Hi, sir? Are you alright?” Cas practically yelled over the rain that was pouring down around them. The man didn't answer, but only lifted his head to meet Castiel's eyes with his own. Woah, green eyes, nice. Cas quickly shoved aside his foolish apprasials and tried again.  
“Sir? Can I give you a ride?” Bad idea. His conscience screamed at him. The mysterious man smiled kindly, nodding his head. At that moment, Castiel gently grasped his arm to guide him to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for him. At last they were both out of the weather, and it was quiet. Cas decided he'd try to talk again.  
“You okay?” He asked softly, wondering if the strange man were hurt. “My name is-” He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't want to. It wouldn't matter if he had because the man he had just invited into his car, now had a gun and was poking it into Castiel's side.  
Told you it was a bad idea. His conscience was such an asshole sometimes.

“Drive.” Dean growled. He had spent almost 20 minutes waiting for someone to stop and “help” him. People around here were so rude. Out of 5 cars, this guy was the only one to stop. This guy, what a nerdy looking dude. With light brown hair that was matted down from the rain and baby blue eyes, a long tan trenchcoat that was now a cardboard box brown, and a blue tie, this guy was a piece of work. Dean studied him, but noticed that he wasn't scared. Part of him grew irritated.  
“What's your name?” He asked nonchalantly as the blue-eyed man drove.  
“How about you tell me where I'm taking you?” He shot back. Dean blanched. Was this guy for real?  
“Hey, pal, who's got the gun here?” He growled. The man didn't seem to care.  
“Yeah? Well who's got the power to kill us both here, Mr.?” Dean couldn't believe his ears. What was wrong with this dude?  
“Your house.” Dean answered solemnly. He didn't have the strength to hold up a threat. Hell, he still had to tie this guy up when they arrived at their destination, and something told Dean that he wouldn't go down without a fight.  
“My house? No. There is no way in HELL I am inviting you into my house. You're in my car. That's enough axe murderer DNA for one day.” Dean's jaw dropped, and he felt himself start to get angry. He lifted the gun, holding it against the guy's temple.  
“You're going to drive to your house, or I'm going to put a bullet in your fucking brain. Can you crash this car before I blow your head off?” He cocked the gun, feeling the stranger flinch on the other end.  
“Try me, buddy, try me.” The car grew quiet, thank God. This guy was a smart ass and on any other day, Dean would have saluted him, but today? No, today was too important, too stressful, too tiring. He glanced over at his “hostage” who was now void of all sarcasm and jokes. He was sweating and even shaking a bit. Dean felt a stab of-- Wait, what? No, he didn't. He was Dean. He did what he had to do. Besides, the guy pissed him off. He's lucky I didn't shoot him. He thought bitterly. He was tired of it being so quiet. Here goes nothing.  
“So how much longer?” Dean asked casually.  
Silence.  
“My name is Dean.” He added, hoping for some kind of feedback. It was to no avail, the guy just kept driving as though Dean weren't there.  
“Look, you can't ignore me forever. It's going to be really hard to do that when I'm tying you to a chair.” That got a reaction.  
“If you think for one moment, that you will be tying me up anywhere with your grubby little hands, you have completely escaped your padded cell in the loony bin and I will transport you back there myself.” He spat. Dean smiled wickedly.  
“Once again, precious, I have the gun, so I will tie you up wherever I damn well please.”  
“Go to hell.”  
“Just got out actually.” The two men exchanged glances.  
“Well,” The blue eyed man tripped over finding his words. “Go back.”  
“Can't do that, princess.”  
“Well, you really should. Let me be. I haven't done anything to you; just let me go.” The guy in the trench coat had completely changed his attitude. Good.  
“You married?” Dean asked, and it was this guy's turn to blanch.  
“What? No. Why?”   
“Kids?” Now the guy was getting irritated.  
“No. I'm gay and I hate children. Why?” Dean let his eyes examine the man's face. Gay? Funny, he didn't strike me as gay; just sassy. Nevertheless, Dean answered his question.  
“Just needing to know how many people to tie up.” His hostage frowned.  
“So, you got a name?” Dean asked once more. The guy scoffed.  
“Why? Because we're such good friends? Fuck you.” Dean sighed.  
“I cannot wait to slap tape over your mouth.” He said drily.  
“You better be quick, or you'll lose a finger.” The blue eyed man stated just as drily. The man began to slow the car down, and proceeded to turn down a gravel road.  
“Shit, you live out in the sticks.” Dean observed aloud, receiving no feedback from his hostage. The road went on forever, and Dean was so tired he could feel his eyes drooping. He needed to stay alert. One slip and this guy was free to call the police or inform someone of his location. Dean couldn't let that happen. Not in a million years.

Castiel was freaking out. He was an excellent actor, but on the inside he was terrified. He knew he should have trusted his gut instinct to just keep driving, but noooo, Castiel just HAS to help everyone! He flickered his eyes to his attacker, why did he have to be so...dirty? If there was one thing Cas couldn't stand, it was filth. His family lived in filth, and he always swore that he'd never end up that way. He lived up to his word for the most part. Not including now, since there was this psychotic ass stranger sitting in his passenger seat covered in muck. Disgusting. Dean. That was his name, and he definitely looked like a Dean. Castiel dated a Dean in college. He was a dick.  
Cas wanted to be ugly and sardonic. He wanted this Dean guy just gone, never to return, but the only way that was ever going to have the slightest chance of happening was if he cooperated. It made him sick to think about it, but he knew he had no choice. So, as Castiel finally pulled in to his driveway and stopped the car, he turned to look at his abductor, preparing for the long hours ahead.  
“My name is Castiel. Please remove your shoes before going inside.”


End file.
